He let the hug go on a little too long, then reluctantly let her go.

“You missed the funeral.” Her tone was half regretful, half accusing as she backed her way inside the house, gesturing for him to follow.

“I didn’t come back for the funeral,” he told her soberly as he took a step over the threshold. Reminded of his reason for being here, his mood swung back to determination.

“He was your father,” she chided, turning to walk around the corner from the foyer and into the big living room.

Caleb followed, letting his silence speak for itself. Unless Mandy was hopelessly naive, she knew the history of the Terrell family. Wilton Terrell might have been Caleb’s father, but he was also the meanest son of a bitch in northwestern Colorado.

Inside the startlingly familiar room, he glanced around, attempting to orient himself. Why was Mandy here, and where was Reed? “So, you and Reed are…”

She shook her head. “He’s not here.”

“I can see that.” It was a big house, two stories, four bedrooms, but if Reed had been around, Mandy’s squeal would have brought him running. Now, Caleb found himself impatient to qualify her role. “You live here?”

Her look went blank. “Huh?”

He enunciated his next words. “Do you live here?”

“Are you asking me if I’m sleeping with your brother?”

“I’m asking if you’re in a relationship with him, yes.” That was the most obvious answer for her presence.

“I’m not.” Her left eye twitched. “Either of those things.”

“Okay.”

Good. Very good. Not that it mattered to Caleb. Nothing about Lyndon Valley or the Terrell ranch mattered to Caleb. This was a temporary glitch on the thoroughfare of his life. Mandy was irrelevant.

Her tone turned tart. “But how very polite of you to inquire about my sex life.”